Left on the Doorstep
by Merciless Past
Summary: "Why was there a small girl on our doorstep who now appears to be moving in with us?" (Parent!Lock, slight AU, no parings except mentions of Sherlock/OFC. First in the Hereditary Genius series.)


**Story: Left on the Doorstep **

**Author: Merciless Past **

**Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Adalane Holmes (OFC), Mrs Hudson (mentioned), Mycroft Holmes (mentioned), Claire (OFC, mentioned). Mention of Sherlock/OFC, no other pairings. **

**Genre: Family, Friendship, Parent!Lock **

**Rating: K+**

**Summary: "Why was there a small girl on our doorstep who now appears to be moving in with us?" Parent!Lock AU**

**Notes: My first Sherlock fanfic. I hope you enjoy it. It's the beginning so it's not really very good; it's mainly just introducing the characters, I was planning on turning it into a series. Tell me what you think. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or the Sherlock Holmes books, or any of the characters. Except Adalane. She's mine. And Claire I suppose. This is all a work of fiction.**

* * *

It was a rather dull day in Baker Street, at least by their standards. No case, they were out of milk again (how did they even get through it so fast?!), John was just reading the newspaper in what had quickly become his chair, and Sherlock was standing by the window plucking at the strings on his violin. Mrs Hudson was down visiting her friend in the sandwich shop below.

When the doorbell rang Sherlock barely paused his playing for a moment before he resumed the gentle plucking.

John looked up from his paper. "Going to get that?"

"It's not a client."

"What does that have to do with it?" frowned John. "And how do you know it's not a client?"

Sherlock spared him a rather condescending glance before he returned to his violin.

John huffed in annoyance and stood up to answer the door. "Of course you have a way to tell, and why would you share it with me?" he muttered as he walked down the stairs. "Yes, hello?" He frowned when he didn't see anyone at first before his eyes were drawn downwards and he met the serious gaze of a small, dark haired little girl who looked up at him with her head cocked to one side.

"I'd like to speak to Sherlock Holmes, please," she said evenly.

"Um, right," he cleared his throat and stepped aside. She walked inside, dragging a small suitcase behind her. "Do you want me to carry that up for you?" he offered, crouching down to her level.

"Yes please," she said softly and he took the case. As he did he noticed an envelope pinned to her thick coat. He would've asked questions but after only three days of living with Sherlock Holmes he had decided that he would be better off not asking. The little girl hopped up the stairs ahead of him and carefully pushed the living room door open. Apparently a new pattern of footsteps was enough to get Sherlock's attention and he turned around to look at the girl.

One eyebrow shot up. "Adalane."

She just blinked up at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Your mother sent you?"

Adalane nodded.

He let out a soft laugh and advanced on the small girl, plucking the envelope from her coat. "Let me guess her new boyfriend took her to Venezuela? No! Peru!"

"Close enough," replied Adalane. "Brazil. And he's not a new boyfriend. He's a slightly older boyfriend who just became a new fiancé. They went back to his home country to get married. They plan on living there."

"And presumably they don't plan on taking you with them," sighed Sherlock. He scowled at the envelope in his hand. "Really? An envelope? Presumably your mother thought it was funny." The detective glanced behind her at the case. "Is that everything?" She nodded. He opened the envelope and ran his eyes over the lines of neat handwriting. "All right, come on," he picked up the case and gestured for her to walk in front of him. "You can sleep in my room until we get a room of your own set up."

"Um excuse me?" John finally decided to interrupt. "I didn't peg you for a kidnapper Sherlock but why was there a small girl on our doorstep who now appears to be moving in with us?"

Sherlock and the girl moved in unison and Adalane ran her eyes over him in a way that was unusually familiar. Her eyes met his again and she cocked her head to the side as she spoke. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John's jaw dropped and his eyes flashed to Sherlock who was wearing an expression that he could only equate to pride. "No," a grin spread across his face. "She can't be!"

Sherlock hid his smirk and rested one large hand on Adalane's thin shoulder. "Adalane meet John Watson, my flatmate, John meet Adalane Holmes. My daughter."

* * *

That night once Sherlock had put Adalane to sleep he came out of his room to find John sitting on the sofa, waiting for him, with the biggest grin on his face.

"Married to your work are you?" John grinned.

"I am," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh really, then where did she come from?"

"I thought you were a doctor, John," Sherlock scoffed. "Surely I don't have to explain that to you."

The two men sat in silence for a moment before John spoke again.

"So who was her mother?"

Sherlock looked down at his hands. He had never really told anyone about her, or about Adalane. Not ever Mycroft but he probably knew anyway.

"We were in University," he started quietly. "It was our last month and Claire, Adalane's mother, came to my room one night. She hadn't really taken much notice of me before, we were paired together on a project in our second year and that was probably the only reason she even knew I existed. There was a party that night that I, predictably, wasn't invited to and she had found her boyfriend shagging her best friend in one of the bedrooms. Her boyfriend loathed me and made no secret of it so sleeping with me must have seemed like a good way to get back at him." If he had looked at John at that moment he would have seen the anger and the sympathy on John's face at how his flatmate was treated. "Then about a month later, a week before graduation, she came to me and told me she was pregnant. She was sure that it was mine because she and her boyfriend hadn't exactly been doing well even before she caught him cheating." His eyes wandered absently to the door to his room where Adalane was fast asleep. "I thought she wouldn't want to keep the baby, but I think for her it was the best kind of revenge. I've not seen Adalane much in her life, I would send her presents on her birthday and sometimes Claire would make me babysit or let me come and see her. But as she grew up she started getting more and more like me and Claire wasn't coping with her very well. This is just the final proof." He looked over at John suddenly. "John, I hope you don't mind if she lives with us. I'd rather not send her to her grandparents but-"

"No, no," John cut him off. "I don't mind. She seems like a nice little girl and she's your family Sherlock."

John looked back down at his book and said nothing about what Sherlock had revealed to him about his younger days.

Sherlock looked at him in mild confusion. He was expecting to be ridiculed for how he let Claire use him, or how he had clearly never been very well liked by his peers. But John said nothing.

He settled calmly back into his armchair.

* * *

Sherlock raised his head from the sofa when he heard the wood of his door scraping over the carpet.

"Adalane?" he said her name softly and she padded through the door and stood there awkwardly in her pyjamas.

"I can't sleep," she whispered.

"Is something wrong?" he sat up. She didn't look cold, or injured.

"No," she shook her head. "I just... can't sleep."

He sighed. "Come over here."

She walked over tentatively. He expected her to sit on the sofa next to him and he was surprised when she climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She burrowed her face into his neck and he lifted his hands up only to let them hang awkwardly in midair. She showed no signs of letting go though, so he eventually rested one hand on her neck and wrapped his free arm around her back, holding her to him. He relaxed back into the sofa and just listened to his daughter breathe.

He knew she wasn't asleep; her breathing pattern hadn't changed.

"Mummy never let me do this," she spoke into his neck and the words were a little muffled.

"I'm not your mother," he said, for lack of a better response.

"I know."

They sat like that for a good few minutes before he spoke again. "Would you sleep better if I was with you?"

He felt her nod against his neck and he stood up wordlessly and carried his little girl to his room. He set her down in the bed before grabbing a pillow for himself and lying down on the floor beside the bed.

He was just trying to get comfortable on the floor when he heard her speak.

"Thank you for looking after me. I'm sorry if I'm a bother."

"You're not a bother," he said firmly. "You're my child. I'm responsible for you; I have to take care of you."

She was quiet for a moment before she whispered something, almost too quietly for him to hear. "I love you, daddy."

He said nothing in reply and after a second her heard her shift around a little and he could just imagine her curling herself up like he did when he slept.

He lay awake for a while pondering why he was going so far out of his way to look after the child. He couldn't really explain it; he had long ago deleted any whimsical thoughts about family or affection but he knew that he would do almost anything for that little girl. He tried to come up with a rational explanation and all he could think of was that perhaps it was some paternal instinct kicking in that he didn't know he had.

Although that didn't explain the warmth he felt in his chest when she had cuddled up to him, and called him daddy and told him she loved him.

He scoffed at his own foolishness and shifted around on the floor to get comfortable.


End file.
